


Dragon Knight, Flames of Starlight

by Thorongil82



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Bandits & Outlaws, Banished, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, F/M, Magic, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Runaway, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Spoiler Tags to be Added, long chapters, other characters to be added - Freeform, prince Hiccup
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-08-28 14:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16725186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorongil82/pseuds/Thorongil82
Summary: On the cooling wind, the smells of the feasts, the bountiful and luxurious food dealt from the kingdom that I can see through a small gap in the branches, carry down to me. I can smell the roast boar, the chicken, fish seared on the roaring fires, the strength of the mead kept for special occasions. All these delicious smells waft down to me, all too familiar. Even without these smells, I can tell it’s a celebration. I would be there too, celebrating with them, if it weren’t for two reasons. One, I am banished, an outcast of the kingdom. Two …… the celebration is for my banishment.Mystery surrounds the prince's banishment as he is forced to leave the kingdom of Berk. Now, he must survive and escape capture as he tries to find the right path for himself. But with the rise of threats from the unknown reaches of the world, combined with others searching him out, just how significant could this decision be?Medieval/Fantasy AU of sorts. Rating may change.





	1. Embers of a Dying Past

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. For those of you who don't know me, I'm Thorongil82, leader of a writing group called the G.M.A.D. This is a fic that was originally posted on FFN. There's a few chapters already written. It'll be a slow build fic in a Fantasy style AU. That's just simply how I do things. Onwards!

_Unknown POV_

I stare into the fire as I sit in this forest, just outside the greatest kingdom in the lands. I lift my head as I peer through the dark overgrowth of leaves, stretching out over me. A slight breeze rustles the leaves, the branches, the trees. It blows down to me, swirling around one who once was held with respect … for the most part. On the cooling wind, the smells of the feasts, the bountiful and luxurious food dealt from the kingdom that I can see through a small gap in the branches, carry down to me. I can smell the roast boar, the chicken, fish seared on the roaring fires, the strength of the mead kept for special occasions. All these delicious smells waft down to me, all too familiar. Even without these smells, I can tell it’s a celebration. I would be there too, celebrating with them, if it weren’t for two reasons. One, I am banished, an outcast of the kingdom. Two …

… the celebration is for my banishment.

‘Who is celebrating?’ I can’t help but wonder. ‘Who would be willing to celebrate my banishment?’

Maybe the king, great Stoick the Vast. A man known for his fearlessness, his overwhelming might. Regarded as the greatest king that Berk ever had, possibly that any kingdom has had. Undeterred, undefeated, ruling with incredible strength, Berk has grown significantly in all aspects under his rule. More alliances, more wealth, greater defences, broader lands. Even the people, from the loyal knight to the hardworking peasant, have grown stronger and fiercer, all more than capable in winning a battle. A hearty laugh, balanced with a stoic composure, yet hidden within, a fierce anger if stirred.

Would he celebrate my banishment, one of nobility that he knew?

Maybe the teens that I fought and trained with for so long. Five without me, just short of adulthood, yet already competent fighters and knights for the king. One, short and stubborn, his arrogance and ego far outgrowing his stature. A bludgeon constantly with him in case of attacks, he is strong in fight and loud in voice, yet undone with his brashness and lack of thought. Some would think him to be the head of the group, the best in most of our traditional tournaments. Two, large and broad, you could even say husky. He is smart and logical, much more a strategist than a fighter. A pacifist, if you will, at least he tries to be, but I will never forget the strength he showed when he went into a berserker rage. Many in the council would say that in a fight, he cannot be much help, but when it comes to planning an attack or defence, there are few that can outmatch him. Three and four, identical twins, blonde hair grown long and unwashed. Mischievous and destructive, perfect people for the sabotaging missions. Unfortunately for the populous, they also carry out their destruction when we … no, they aren’t under attack. A troublesome duo, definitely not the brightest out of the bunch, yet determined and ready for a fight nearly every single day. Five, what can I say? A Valkyrie descended from the heavens. If anything can be called this, Odin’s gift to Berk. She is beautiful, smart, quick, and fierce. She has a kind heart to most, ignorant people see the side. Masterful with her weapons, especially her axe, she will fight strongly to protect her friends, but shows no mercy to any foes or those who would question her family’s honour. Her beauty is undeniable, her kindness unrepayable, even those from the other kingdoms have tried to get her hand. But, each and every time, she pushes them aside. Well in line to lead the group, even Stoick relishes in admiration of her fighting spirit. In the eyes of most, the best fighter in the land, at least out of the youth, winner of countless tournaments with the other kingdoms.

Would they celebrate the banishment of one that they might have called a friend?

Would the faithful smith, Gobber the Belch, fearsome fighter and master smith, celebrate my banishment? One major reason why Berk’s swords are sharp and their steel is keen. He is known throughout the land as a truly brilliant fighter, even more so because of his missing hand and leg. His feats can be described as close to legendary. A true friend to Stoick, ever a constant advisor for the king, though he can occasionally show moments of bluntness and misinterpret some parts. But everyone knows that he is only trying to help out, even if they don’t act like it. A spirited man, hearty and faithful to his friends, treating them as if they were his family.

Would the smithy celebrate my banishment, the one who I could call my best friend?

All I can do is look back down at the fire I made for myself as the festivities and cheer sound out from the bright, incredibly strong fortress in which the forest sits outside. Dragging the cloak around me closer, hugging over the silver and black armour that I was allowed to wear on my exit, the fire casting the trees in an eerie flickering shadow. The darkness doesn’t scare me, the fire has more pain in it for me than the lack of light. In the fire, I see the memories of angst, of pain, destruction and death. I see the cruelty of the fire. I see the blaze from which the Queen was taken, though I was still a babe. I see my mother, snatched from the clutches of my father, taken by the beasts in the night. I see the inferno that engulfed me those years past, when I took it upon myself to protect the others, the scars of that day will never leave me.

But looking past the cruelty, I also see the warmth of the fire. With its light, it casts back those that choose to hide out of sight. It lets you see what is out of reach, it can be used to fight back those that seek you harm. It also lets others see you when you want to be seen. But I do not have to worry about the castle guards seeing my fire tonight. The thick growth of the trees is enough to hide the illumination provided by the flame.

There is one more thing that fire represents to me, the outlines of my past showing up in the night sky as I look up to the stars. Fire also has the edge of mystery, of curiosity. For all their strength, for all their might, Berk has never been able to end their war against the beasts that fly through the air …

… the devils called dragons.

I am under no pretence of there being a raid tonight. With the clear skies, they would be seen easily and no dragons can hide in that darkness. Except one, the Night Fury. Virtually unbeatable, unable to predict, it has caused so much difficulty whenever it has entered the fray. I swear, I almost took it out of the skies. But, no one ever believed me … Even now, I wonder if that dragon is in the skies, flying over Berk … watching their every move. But they shouldn’t concern me. I have to get some sort of plan as to where to go.

As an outcast, I was banished on pain of death if I was to return. The terms stated that I had until the next morning to get as far as I could from the lands within Berk’s boundaries. Afterwards, if I was to be found by any Berkian within the lands, I was to be brought before the king, where upon a gruesome torture and execution awaits me … unless my status is revoked. So why wouldn’t I have left the lands already? Because of faint hope that some kind of mistake was made. I was dragged out from my duties closing as the day neared the evening, only to be met with the news that I was banished from the kingdom immediately. No explanation of why, just that I had the basic right of being led to my quarters and for a half hour, I could grab whatever I could to take with me. So, I grabbed what I thought would be of use for me in the long run. A small bag of gold, my notebooks, maps of the surrounding kingdoms, some basic clothing, the armour I wore into battle, my small dagger that Gobber made for me, and the self-spring flame sword given to me by a dear friend, named _Inferno_ by the creator. His secrets of his craft will only be known to me, at least that’s what I tell people when they ask. I also grabbed a shield and the sword that my mother left me before her disappearance; along with a few more materials for if I had to repair my clothing and weapons.

Finally, to the dot of the time I was given, I was wrenched from my room and marched down the castle, through the crowds of people watching my decent. Some glared, some smiled in happiness, but most looked on blankly or with confusion. Clearly they hadn’t been informed on why I had been banished either. When I reached the gates, I was instructed to turn around and face the keep, positioned so that it could be seen and overlook the whole fortress. From there, I could see Stoick’s giant figure standing directly opposite to me, with Gobber and his other advisors around him. A little to the left, I saw the royal knights, with the five teens standing in front of them. To the right, the few servants that were on duty with their heads bowed.

Stoick bellowed out the terms of my banishment, his thunderous voice carrying out to the farthest reaches of the kingdom. Again, to my disappointment, the reason for my banishment was not announced.

“Do you have anything to say before your departure?” Stoick asked to me, his voice impartial to his feelings.

All I could do is turn around and slowly walk away, ne’er giving a sound. When the final citizen, an elderly guard that used to talk with me about times gone by when on night watch, handed me the complementary rations for my parting, I could only nod my head in thanks as I accepted it. Not as a piece of my survival, but as a parting gift from those that did not want this to happen, from those that wished for my wellbeing. I never turned around, not to see the reception on everyone’s face, not to see who lingered and who left. I never stopped my steps, not until I made it to the forest. There, on the edge of the trees, just in sight of the kingdom, I took one final look at the splendour of what I once was a part of, before disappearing from Berkian sight and into the dark forest. Only when I reached where I am now did I finally stop. Night had already fallen, the celebrations already begun.

As the fire dwindles, I slowly accept that I will no longer be able to return. I have eaten two of the apples and a strip of meat of the food I was gifted, already portioning the pieces I have to last. I need to decide what I can do, where I can go. King Thuggory of the Meathead kingdom and Queen Camicazi of the Bogs would both probably be willing to accept me into their kingdoms. We were great friends at a young age and only due to their acceptance of their kingdoms reigns at such a young age did our contact grow thin. I could easily make it there without being caught, but I will not. They both will prosper so much better with their images intact with Stoick. If I’m found to be with them, it could seriously damage their profile and alliance. Alvin’s lands could once have been a considerate move, but with relationships repaired recently between those Outcast lands, it could be too predictable and risky. They could hand me over to Berk straight away to gain more stature within the kingdoms. The Beserkers, though great in might, again could be risky to gain acceptance. We haven’t heard much from them about any news in a long time. The patience on their end could be particularly thin, I don’t want to be responsible for unleashing the flood of fury that they are known for. Then the lands out to the icy seas of the north, for the most part abandoned and desolate. Survival will be tough, but I can at least make it there. When there, then I can get to making a living according to the almost unknown villages and tribes out there.

‘Who knows?’ I think as I lie my head back against the tree my back rests against. ‘There could be another kingdom out there too.’

But even with that more important thought in my head, I couldn’t help but think that I need to gain back my honour in Berk, to prove that they were wrong. Then, I can go about gainsaying my banishment, proving that I did nothing that was against the laws of the kingdom. The only thing that could possibly do that, I believe, would be the slaying of a Night Fury. The other that could achieve that would be if I somehow managed to save their destruction, but that is out of the question right now. All it would do would gain their notice, then maybe it could allow some sort of deliberation with the rulers.

But now, as the fire dies in front to me, I must drift off into sleep, lest of course I not have the strength to make the next day’s journey. The last thought before my dreams take me is that I must wake early, if I am to make sure they will not find me after dawn. That my life must have some way to be redeemed …

… that I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, former heir to the throne of Berk, have some reason left to persevere in this world.


	2. Confusing Celebrations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the celebrations begin!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly forgot to post this tonight. Thanks for all the kudos and bookmarks, and to keldlando for commenting. Onwards!

  _3_ _rd_ _Person POV_

As the sunset warmly illuminated the skies behind Berk, the former prince slowly disappears into the thick dark forest, vanishing from sight until Odin knows when. A silent breeze blows through the kingdom, the few leaves picked up in its feeble wind nature’s lament to the loss of such youth. It winds its way through the fortress, gently touching each person in a different way. For some, just a slight inconvenience sending slight shivers along their skin. The wise and elderly, they hear the cries and voices of those lost the same way.

As the wind winds its way to the keep, it lightly pushes against the people standing there. Stoick’s large cape flaps ever so slowly, caught in the feeble breeze. Gobber’s long moustache waving slightly as he looks towards the forest with a deep sadness permeating his heart. Out of the youthful knights, only one looks truly upset to see the prince gone. Large, kind, intelligent Fishlegs looks fairly crushed at his friend’s departure. The destructive twins, Ruffnut and Tuffnut, seem to have no interest in the matter, while the narcissistic and egotistical Snotlout watches with a certain smugness. The last of that youthful group, heavenly Astrid, just watches on, her face unyielding to her feelings towards this, except for the slight ghost of concern that very few could notice.

After a few moments in which everyone stands silent, eyes towards the forest or ground, the king, Great Stoick the Vast, finally moves from his position. With neither speaking a word or any expressing anything at all, he turns around and walks slowly into the keep, followed by half of the nobles. A loud horn bellows out from the hornburg, exhaled by the mighty lungs of Sven the Silent, signalling the end to the ceremonious procedure and for one of the advisors to start speaking. As everyone turned to face the keep, Spitelout Jorgenson stepped into the view of all. Tall and solid with an untidy black hair and boxed beard, he is one of the most powerful people in Berk. Holding one of the positions of head advisor, plus being one of the hardiest and strongest fighters, he is well respected and feared among many.

“Now that the banished has left us forever, the festivities shall begin,” he announced loudly so all could hear. “Begin the preparations. By nightfall, the celebrations can begin.”

With that, everyone began moving all at once. Most began to help with the celebrations, setting up the tables and hanging decorations from the roofs. The kitchens fired up, immense heat pouring from inside as vast stores of food where roasted and cooked over the roaring flames. Barrels of mead are rolled down the streets, barrelling towards the great courtyard on the second level. Ruffnut and Tuffnut were having the time of their lives, running on top of the barrels as they sped towards the courtyard with some shaky balancing. Passers looked at them like they were crazy, which can’t really be disputed.

“What do you think you are doing?!” called out mighty Phlegma the Fierce as they hurtled past her.

“Having a barrel of fun!” the twins cried back, snickering afterwards at their little joke.

When they finally made it to the centre of the courtyard, they crashed into the pile of neatly stacked barrels already there. The collision knocked down the stack to the dismay of a few, while the twins were thrown from their rides and sent flying into the conveniently placed hay bales lying on one wall. As they deliriously high-fived each whilst straw covered their fur vests and woollen clothes, everyone nearby just shook their heads in slight annoyance except for the young children giggling madly at the twins of destruction.

Some large stalls and areas were being set up for festivities, such as the comic entertainment provided by the jesters or the twins if they can stand for a surprise entrance, and the competitive games. Games that allow the participants to show off and test their strength, power, speed and accuracy. Snotlout had gone over to help set those up, but half his time was spent flexing his muscles and trying to impress the ladies that were around. Though some would giggle at his flirtatious attempts, others would just push him away in irritation.

“So, Astrid,” he said flirtatiously, walking up to the blonde haired girl who was organising and setting up a fighting ring. “You interested in going out with this example of perfection later tonight?”

He turned his back to her and flexed his arms over his head, looking backwards over his grey wolf pelt cloak to see her reaction.

“How many times do I have to spell it out to you, Snotlout?” Astrid said, pushing up one of the outer poles with a couple of Berkians. “I’m not interested in you. Period.”

As the other two Vikings held and hammered the pole in place, Astrid dusted her hands off onto her worn looking, faded sage top and leather skirt and turned to face Snotlout, jumping back when she saw him leaning towards her with an attempt of a charming face. She rolled her eyes and stepped past him, walking off towards the higher reaches of the fortress.

“Really? Are you sure?” he pressured, following her as she walked. “You can’t keep denying your feelings for me. Sooner or later, you’ll realise that we’re meant to be. It’s destiny.”

“Well then it’s a good thing I don’t believe in destiny,” she snapped back, spinning to face him. “How about you try helping everyone else set up instead of trying to flirt with everyone and be so self-centred?”

“What else would you have me do?” he asked as she walked off.

“Find Fishlegs for me,” she shouted back. “He needs to pull his weight like everyone else.”

“Fishlegs? He’s in the library,” Phlegma the Fierce answered as she walked past Astrid on her way down the fortress.

“What’s he doing there?” she asked, slightly annoyed.

“The council asked him to look at the writings that they confiscated from Hiccup upon his banishment,” she replied before walking off, lugging three large barrels of mead on her back.

‘I guess that makes some sense,’ Astrid thought, sighing as she walked away, back on her intended path. ‘If anyone can understand what Hiccup writes down, it’s either Fishlegs or Gobber … or the Queen before she was taken.’

“Aaand what about me?” Snotlout asked somewhat smoothly, grabbing a hold of Astrid’s hand in his.

Reacting to this, Astrid whipped around and yanked her hand out of his grasp before punching his jaw hard.

“Go help someone else who needs it,” she huffed as she walked away. “Just don’t annoy me.”

‘Honestly … you’d think he’d get the message by now,’ Astrid scrutinised as she walked up towards the keep, observing the progress so far.

Things were nearly finished, with the final touches being applied to the fortress. Children were running around with laughter playing Knights and Dragons, a few kids acting as dragons while the others chased after them with flimsy wooden swords. Berkians were chatting and laughing cheerfully with one another, as if nothing had really happened that day and it was just another celebration.

‘What’s the matter with these people?’ Astrid thought concerned. ‘It’s like Hiccup meant nothing to anyone.’

While passing into the upper reaches of the fortress, she notices that a small group of people moving around in a small section, glancing frequently at the forge. The occasional clang of a hammer upon iron rang out from within, along with a loud, almost indiscernible sound in Gobber’s voice. Astrid started moving towards the forge, but stopped mid-way when she heard one of the people’s murmurs.

“Poor fella …” the woman said, picking up a barrel of apples. “He’s taking this hard …”

‘Maybe I was wrong …’ Astrid wondered as she walked up to the stone and wood building. She slowly walked through the oaken doorway, knocking on it as she passed through.

“Gobber?” she called out, looking at the tremendous mess of weapons and materials lying on the ground, some smashed and splintered.

A mallet flings through the air at Astrid, the girl ducking out of the way. She looks up in time to see a wooden shield fly through the air at her, which shatters against the door frame just past.

“Gobber?” Astrid says cautiously, looking in the direction that the items were hurled from. In the shadows of the room, she can see the burly outline of the blacksmith hunched over by a table.

“Geeet out!” he slurred, sniffling afterwards.

“Gobber? Are you okay?” she asked, creeping slowly towards him.

“I said GET OUT!” he shouted, reaching for a blade hilt lying on the table next to him.

He grasps the hilt and raises it threateningly over his head. Astrid turned tail and ran out of the forge as the hilt clangs on the stone next to her, followed by a metal handle bouncing off the ground behind her. She stands tall and looks at the muttering and dissolving crowd as they part and leave, before looking back at the darkened forge with concern.

‘What-’

“Just let him be, lass” a rich voice says from behind her.

She turns around and sees his highness, King Stoick, looking down at her, dressed in red silk and furs with a long black bear skin cloak. A golden band adorned his head with carvings of warriors and two large silver circles engraved with god-like faces resting on his shoulders.

“Your majesty,” she said, automatically bowing down on one knee and bringing a hand over her chest. A large hand is brought before her, which she looks at strangely and takes.

“You may rise, Astrid,” he said, pulling her to her feet.

“Sire,” she says respectfully, dusting herself off.

“It’s probably best not to worry about Gobber for now,” he said, waving her off and walking up to the keep, the young knight following him. “He can get quite emotional when things like this happen. Especially when he also drinks.”

“I can see that,” she muttered, looking solemnly at the handle on the ground. The king, hearing her statement, chuckles warmly.

“He doesn’t mean any harm, lass,” he reassures her. “If he did, he would’ve hit his mark. No doubt.”

“He does have a good aim for being drunk,” she admits.

“Well, he needs it. The amount of times that we’ve been raided out of the blue by those devils of the sky, you never know if you’re going to be sober or drunk. He could take a Nightmare out of the air with one hand whilst staggering around aimlessly.”

“Well, that’s good. It’s the only hand he’s got.”

“Very true,” Stoick laughed heartily. “How are the preparations going?”

“We’re nearly ready, your majesty,” she reports. “It should be ready within the hour.”

“Good. Dusk is nearing, and I’m sure we’d all rather be having fun and celebrating by night time.”

“Yeah …” she replies, her voice wavering slightly from her own unsure.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, looking at her with concern.

“N-no. Nothing, sire,” she stammers out.

“Hmm … Well, if it’s of any concern, you can tell me,” the king says as he walks off, leaving Astrid standing near the keep lost in thought.

* * *

Night has fallen across the lands, and Berk is alight with music, laughter and cheer. Berkians within the fortress laugh with one another as they drink mead and beer together, feasting upon food as if there is no tomorrow. The stalls are busy, children laughing as they play games and chase each other around the fortress. Explosions rock the sky as fireworks of various colours and shapes are launched towards the stars to the delight of all. Young couples head to the festival-like games, hoping to win their partner a prize or just to show off their skills. The general ‘hoop toss’ and ‘target’ stalls hold a lot of attention, along with the ‘dunking’ game.

The fighting ring, however, always brings in the largest crowds. Many come to watch and partake in the brawling, the audience cheering as the fights get wilder and fiercer. Singles and the occasional group matches, usually doubles, step up to fight, with both genders fighting with no weapons except their bodies. Punches, kicks, grappling and even head-butts are showcased as their strength and agility are put to the test. As a bloody, but friendly, brawl between the teams of Phlegma the Fierce and Sven the Silent against Bork Ironfist and Spitelout ‘Battleheart’ Jorgenson ends, the next duo to brawl enter the ring.

“The next fight is between the proclaimed Twins of Destruction!” the announcer, a man by the name of Hoark ‘Thunderdrum’, bellowed into a cone, amplifying his voice.

The hundreds that piled into the area surrounding the ring roared with approval as Ruffnut and Tuffnut step up into the corners.

“This fight is set for one round with no time limit,” Hoark announced. “The brawl ends when either person submits, is counted out, or is unable to continue.”

“They’d have to be unconscious to not be able to fight!” Snotlout yelled at Astrid over the noise of the crowd, the young female knight nodding in response. They, along with the twins and usually Fishlegs, would sit near the front row together, where they could see all the action and easily reach the ring if they wanted a fight. However, Fishlegs still was nowhere to be found, still probably in the library.

“Wonder how this one will end?!” Spitelout shouted at them as he sat down next to his son, crossing his arms and looking at the ring. “A no contest like usual?!”

“You were awesome, dad!” Snotlout yelled. “You could’ve taken them both on your own!”

“Of course I could!” he admitted. “Us Jorgenson’s are virtually unbeatable!”

“Is that why Stoick has been able to make you tap out and submit before?!” Astrid shot at the two of them with a smug grin.

Spitelout didn’t hear her as he was still hyped up from his brawl and raring for the twins to start. Snotlout however did hear and was about to retort back, but the battle roar of the twins as they charged at each other cut him off. Their first collision of heads brought a cheer from the crowd as they grabbed ahold of each other and tussled on the ring floor, rolling over each other as fists flew. Insults were hurled at one another as they did whatever they could to hit each other. They were practically famous for being an almost unbeatable tag team, and also for having the most amounts of no-contests.

Astrid shook her head in amusement and snuck away, unseen by the Jorgenson duo who were so absorbed in the scuffle of the twins. She walked away from the arena and through the festivities, looking at all the cheerful adults and youth. Grabbing a small mug of mead and a chicken leg as she passed one of the food tables, she walked up higher and higher into the castle, to the battlements on the highest level. She climbed the stairs of the wall and up to a lookout tower, where she then looked down at the lights, the cheerful music, and the blissful people hustling and bustling. Drinking from her mug, she hears the humming of a man above her. Climbing to the roof of the tower, she comes across Gobber, mug attachment in place of his missing hand, humming and swaying to the music.

“Gobber?” she says as she pulls herself on top, standing precariously on the slanted roof.

“Oh, hello lass,” he replies, more cheerful than their previous encounter that day.

“How are you feeling?”

“Much better than before,” he replied, placing a hand next to him and inviting her over. The young knight walks over and sits down next to the blacksmith.

“I’m sorry about before, Astrid,” he apologised, looking at her. “I’m a lot more sober now then I was then.”

“It’s alright, Gobber,” she replied. “I guess I would’ve reacted something like how you did if I was in the same position.”

“I just couldn’t believe what happened. Hiccup? Of all people?”

“I’m a bit surprised too. Not just because he got banished, but more so how comfortable most people are taking it.”

Astrid looks around tentatively, brushing her golden bangs out of her eyes.

“I mean, okay, he wasn’t exactly the envisioned masterpiece that you all imagined a child of Stoick’s to be. But still, he was the prince, and suddenly he is banished? Shouldn’t there be more shock?” she asked, Gobber looking as if he has no answer. She looks back down at the scenes below them, the booming voice of Hoark coming from the ring.

“Due to both participants being unable to continue as a result of colliding head charge, this match has been called a no-contest!” he announced, his voice reaching the two on the lookout tower easily.

“Surprise, surprise,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes.

“How many draws does that make now?” Gobber asked, amused.

“Two hundred and thirty-eight apiece.”

“Nearly four times as much as the next person,” he mused, looking up at the starry sky and drinking from his mug.

“He shouldn’ta been banished,” Gobber said after a pause, Astrid looking up at him mid-bite.

“Hiccup? What do you mean, Gobber?”

“Hiccup didn’t do anything,” Gobber explained, looking at Astrid. “If there was something, they’ve got the wrong person. I know it.”

“What do you mean, ‘if there was’?”

“Some people have been looking for an excuse to get Hiccup out of here for ages,” Gobber explained to a surprised Astrid. “They think that there’s a better person for his position, and they must have taken their chance.”

“What was it that he did?”

“What he was _accused_ for,” Gobber emphasised, “I’m not too sure if I should tell you. Or, rather, if I’m the right person to do so. All I know is that he didn’t do it. He wouldn’t.”

“Well … I guess you’d be the person to know what he would and wouldn’t do. We never really knew him well, except for maybe Fishlegs. You knew him well, though.”

Gobber nodded before getting up and stretching.

“Well, I best be off,” he stated. “I volunteered to stay on watch for tonight.”

“You did?” Astrid asked, taken aback.

“Of course I did. I’m not going to celebrate someone’s banishment if I know they don’t deserve it,” Gobber said as he climbed back down the tower, grabbing an axe he left outside on the wall and walked away across the walls. Astrid watched the blacksmith leave before looking back down at the colourful lights, the celebrating Berkians, the music and laughter.

“What’s going on? I used to enjoy these days,” Astrid spoke to herself. “Maybe things just change a bit when it’s someone you know.”

‘But did you really know him?’ her conscious asks her, causing her to look back through her memories of Hiccup. Nothing in particular came to mind, mostly some clumsy mistakes that he made in the field or him presenting a strategic plan to counter an enemy in meetings. But, nothing truly that showed anything personal about him.

"... I guess not," she answered herself aloud, sighing and walking back down to the celebrations.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to let me know your thoughts, suggestions, concerns, etc. You can also find me on Tumblr @thorongil82 if that suits you better. Otherwise, I'll see you in five days. Adios!


	3. Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prince begins his great escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the new kudos and bookmarks, and to ItsasUmbrella for commenting. Long chapter this time. Onwards!

The shimmering of stars in the dark sky dwindles as the horizon starts to awaken with the rising of the sun. The large orb of light had yet to rise above the mountains and hills, yet still it lightens the darkness beyond the sight of one’s eyes. At dawn’s frosty touch Hiccup wakes from his slumber, emerald eyes looking to the air, celestial lights twinkling down at him as they say their dawn farewell.

Looking down onto his camp, nothing seems to have changed. A few leaves and twigs scattered from tiny creatures in the night, the slight shuffling of materials inched over by a nightly breeze. The fire is dead, burnt down in the night, save for a thin wisp of pale grey smoke barely reaching the thick branches. No more change could be seen nor heard, save for the whistling of birds rising with the sun.

“Time to pack up,” Hiccup mumbled as he sat up, to no one but himself.

He stashed away what he brought out the night before, putting on a loose shirt to hide his armour and changing his armoured chausses and greaves for a pair of ragged pants. He also removed the pointed shoulder guards, stuffing them also into the sack. An apple for the morning and a map are all he pulls out, stashing both into a pouch sewn in the cloak around him from last night. Stamping and scattering the remaining ashes of the fire, Hiccup picks up his sack of contents and begins his long journey, striding away from the Berk capital.

The journey through the forest was in itself uneventful. Hiccup knew the forest like the back of his hand. What little of his spare time had been spent either in the forge or the forest most days. Strange events happened in here, that’s what he always thought. Whether it was mystical spirits dancing and gliding amongst the trees to hidden troll lairs near lakes and caves, he felt that there was something magical at work within the woodland realm. But, despite his beliefs, he was still captivated with seeing tiny birds fluttering through the treetops, small critters crawling through the fallen twigs and leaves, deer leaping in bounds over rocks and hills and a thin mist rolling gently along the ground.

When Hiccup came to the forest it was to escape the hustle and bustle of his daily life. When surrounded by the peace and tranquillity that the seclusion provided, he took to drawing what he could see or what he had on his mind, mostly inventions he wanted to make or an image of Astrid. In other cases, he also came to explore, or to look for a dragon that he thought fell after being shot out of the sky with a bola in a raid, always unsuccessful in his search.

In times gone, the forest was a place of rest and refuge for the prince. Now banished, it serves as his first cloak, shrouding him from unfriendly eyes.

* * *

The sun had cleared over the mountains, casting great shadows in the trees, by the time that Hiccup reached the edge of the forest. As he came out to the light, he could see the majesty of the fortress of Berk behind him, the towers stretching ever higher as the buildings spiral up, and the large port town of Whiteport to the south, separating the insurmountable mountain range at the valley between Raven’s Point and Højestenbjerg [1] and the icy, eel infected waters of Frystål [2] Ocean beyond. Far, far away into the vast stretch of water beyond reside the isles of the Berserkers and the Outcasts. Looking back to the north lay before Hiccup the rest of the rounding Berk isle, filled mostly with forests, hills, a rocky peak, farms and a small town named Ravenwell, with a single paved path running from the port all the way to the north end of the isle. The great bridge town of Thornscar spanned over the separating body of water and connected the isle to the continent of Iagruven.

‘I must make use of the empty roads while I still have time, _’_ Hiccup thought desperately, seeing no one along the paved road as he looked from side to side. The banished prince came out of the refuge of the forest and took to the main path, making sure that his hood was covering his head, shielding his face, and clutching his cloak around him.

For what seemed like hours he strode along the quiet road, hearing little but for the chirping of birds, the chittering of insects, the rustling of fallen leaves caught in the morning’s breeze and his own feet, or foot if you will, treading on the paved stones. The growing warmth along his back told him of the Sun’s steady rise into the sky above, both a coming and a warning of the wakening Berkians that could take to the path. To his relief, however, the slow clopping of horse hooves and the squeaking of wood against wood and stone told him that only farmers were using the roads at this early stage.

‘Of course, market week starts today, doesn’t it?’ Hiccup remembered as the men and women rode by on their horse-driven wagons.

The young teenager grew anxious at each carriage passing, shrinking into his cloak in fear of being recognised. However, to his immense relief, not a single passer-by gave any indication that they knew that it was the former prince passing inches away. Few were those that gave him a second look. The farmers that did tipped their brimmed hats or nodded in greeting, the gesture returned by Hiccup. Children playing in the back of some carriages would wave and babble happily at the youth, a couple even handing some fruit and vegetables down at the request of their parents, giving Hiccup a sense of both joy and sorrow. Joy in the sight of such happy and carefree children ecstatic about visiting the capital of the region. Sorrow for it reminded him of the path lain out before him, that he could not join in and be merry again until his name is cleared.

The long road fell silent after the last of the farmers had passed, leaving the banished prince alone once again. It was nearing the middle of the day as he came across a crossroad, a four pronged signpost telling him that he was only halfway between Berk and Thornscar with an encampment and outpost a little way off to his left and some farms branching off towards the right.

“I must have made more ground last night than I thought,” Hiccup sighed, stretching his arms into the air.

Suddenly, the quick clopping of horse hooves sound out along behind on the path Hiccup had just travelled along. Panicking, Hiccup flung himself down to the signpost, frantically checking that his remaining armour was well covered and couldn’t be seen, along with his head. Just as he finished adjusting his cloak, one brown bay and two steel grey horses, one a stallion and the other a mare, came galloping down the path, coming to a stop at the crossroads. Atop the equines sat in a mix of white and coloured outlined helmless armour the trio of Snotlout, Tuffnut and Ruffnut, the twins both with mirrored black eyes from their brawl the previous night.

Snotlout’s armour consisted of white overlapping steel plates across the torso, two white spiked shoulder guards, along with white and silver gauntlets and handguards, all with fiery red outlines along the plates. Finishing the protective part of the armour are a pair of crimson boots and two curved interlocking plates fading from scarlet red to storm grey back to scarlet red on the outside of each leg, with white outlines along the plates for the boots and interlocking slabs. Under the armour can be seen, only just, long, light, black undergarments and a gemstone in the centre of his chestplate containing the Berkian crest; a Monstrous Nightmare curled up into a spiral. The gemstones were usually chosen to reflect the personality and style of the knight. In this case, Snotlout’s gem was a fiery ruby. The twins had the same design and colour scheme; except they had golden shades replacing the red and their gemstones were orange topazes.

“You there, sir,” Tuffnut proclaimed pompously, sitting grandly atop his stallion, “You wouldn’t have happened to come across a young lordling-”

“Wasn’t he the prince?” Ruffnut piped up, her horse coming to a stop next to her twin’s.

“Are they not the same thing?” Tuff inquires, turning around.

“I dunno. Are you a prince?”

“Huh … I didn’t think of it that way. Maybe I am …” Tuffnut said with a small mischievous smile growing on his face.

“You’re not a prince,” Snotlout put bluntly, looking more interested in his reflection off his shield hanging from his horse’s saddle than in the twins and the hooded individual.

“Oh, and how would you know?” Tuffnut questioned with attitude, looking over to the lordling on the horse in front of them. “Would you so happen to be the designator of royal positions? The appointer of princes throughout the lands?”

“Is your dad the king?” Snotlout inquired, looking with a deadpan expression back at Tuffnut.

“Uh … I guess not?” Tuff replied with a shrug, hoping to be wrong.

“And besides, if you were a prince, Ruff would be a princess,” Snotlout continued, gesturing to the female present. “Is she one?”

“Hmm … I guess I see your point,” Tuff replied thoughtfully, his hand over his chin. “There’s no way she could be.”

“Hey!” Ruff shouted, striking her twin’s face hard, right across the nose and sending him out of his saddle.

“Ouch! Ow-Ow!”

Tuff crashed to the ground with a thud, rolling around and clutching his nose. He rolls back and forth a little frantically, trying to distract himself from the pain.

“Come on, already!” Snotlout complained, getting impatient. “Let’s get on with it! We need to find Hiccup before anyone else does.”

“You ever been punched by her before?” Tuffnut questions, sitting up and rolling his nose around. On occasion he would wipe at his nostrils, checking for blood. “You do know she hits like a guy, right?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Snotlout unsympathetically apologises, his tone filled with sarcasm and false pity. “I was just worried about not getting the gigantic freakin’ bounty on his head!”

“Hmm ... you make an excellent argument,” Tuff stated after a thoughtful pause, getting back up to his feet.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Ruffnut inquired. “Let the interrogation begin!”

“Now, there’s no need to panic, sir.” Tuffnut reassured, winking while he still faced Snotlout and Ruffnut.

“Yeah, we just want to ask you some questions,” Ruff snickered, having to turn away to try and hide it.

“Now, citizen, you wouldn’t have happened to come across a young prin-”

“Banished prince,” Snotlout interjected once again.

“Would you like to do the questioning?” Tuff asked in annoyance, glaring at Snotlout once again with his hands on his hips.

“Maybe I would,” Snotlout retorted, leaning forwards and meeting Tuffnut’s glare.

“Just get on with it already!” Ruffnut shouted loudly. “We’re wasting enough _Hiccup searching_ _time_ as it is.”

“Jeez, alright already,” Tuffnut grumbled. “No need to burst your yak bladder.”

Tuff turned around with his eyes closed, taking a deep breath to restart his questioning.

“So, citizen, have you, or have you not, seen aaa … where’d he go?”

Upon opening his eyes, Tuffnut could not see the cloaked man that was standing before them earlier. Instead, the crossroads were empty save for the three lords and their horses.

“Oh, great! We lost him!” Snotlout complained, throwing his hands in the air.

“He just vanished into thin air …” Tuffnut marvelled with wonder, like a small child seeing a magic trick.

“Or are we hallucinating?” Ruffnut proposed, looking at the front and back of both her open hands. “Did we have too much yak dung and salted mutton brain tea again last night?”

“Huh … maybe we did …” Tuff mused, stroking his chin. “Should we do the bladder essence test?”

“Uh, guys?” Snotlout piped up, looking along the path.

“It would help to get a proper diagnosis,” Ruffnut concurred, completely ignoring Snotlout. “Did you bring the essence of eel bladder?”

“Guys-?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tuff sighed, “though a suitable sheep’s gallbladder should work if found-”

“GUYS?!” Snotlout yelled, finally getting the attention of the twins.

“What?!” the twins simultaneously snap back, turning to face him.

“If you muttonheads have finished your little talk,” Snotlout griped as he rubbed his temple, “you would notice that the man IS GETTING AWAY!”

Snotlout points angrily up along the path towards Thornscar, where the twins just see the figure of the disguised Hiccup before he disappears from the top of the hill.

“Well, why didn’t you say so?” Ruffnut chastised.

“I- … Wha- … Bu-” Snotlout sputtered, at a loss for words.

“Silence!” Tuffnut commanded. “For now is the time for the dramatic chase. Onwards, Clopper!”

Tuffnut’s steel grey stallion, Clopper, reared back on his hind legs. With a whinny, it galloped at forwards with tremendous speed. Unfortunately, the angle that he reared back at coupled with the speed that Clopper took off with knocked Tuff out of his saddle, sprawling the young Berk lord down onto the ground.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” Tuffnut called after his horse from the ground as he watched Clopper race away. “Clopper?! Uh … guys? Little help?”

Hiccup kept walking along the path, trying to make the most of the arguments between the trio to put some distance between he and them. He had chosen the moment when Tuffnut was knocked off his horse by his sister to take his leave, using the clatter of steel armour on paved stones to mask his departure. Unfortunately for him, he had barely traversed a few hundred metres before the fast clopping of horse hooves began behind him. Sighing and trying to compose himself, he turned around only to be met by the surprising sight of a riderless equine.

“Uh … okay then? One of the twins, I’m guessing,” Hiccup mused as Clopper approached him, taking note of the stallion’s coat and the double-edged spear attached to the saddle.

Clopper trot up to Hiccup, giving a cheerful neigh before nuzzling his head against the former prince. Hiccup, caught by the sudden affection, began stroking Clopper’s nose gently.

“Hey, bud …” Hiccup whispered softly, scratching the coat of the stallion. “That’s a good boy …”

“Halt, citizen!” Tuffnut’s voice called from the top of the hill. Looking back up to the hill top, Hiccup spies the last two horses and their riders cantering towards him. Atop the other grey horse, almost identical to Clopper, Tuffnut could be seen perched with his feet on the back of the saddle and his hands on Ruff’s shoulders to balance himself.

‘Oh great …’ Hiccup thought, sighing subconsciously. ‘I would’ve thought I’d have gotten more time with _their_ arguments.’

“Stop! Cease your actions!” Tuffnut commanded as they got closer. “You will back away from my ho-ooorse?!”

As soon as they got close Ruffnut brought her mare to a sudden stop, of course without warning her twin brother first. Tuff’s inertia resulted in his self being thrown from behind Ruffnut, soaring through the air with a mighty cry before landing and sliding across the stone path. Ruffnut fell back in her saddle, clutching her stomach as she howled with laughter. With a groan, Tuffnut jumped to his feet and marched straight up to the unidentified Hiccup.

“You! You will back away from my horse now, mister!” Tuffnut demanded, continually poking the hooded Hiccup in his chest until he backed up what was deemed to be a sufficient distance with his hands raised. Hiccup looked nervously in the direction he was travelling in only to see Snotlout blocking the pathway with his horse.

“Ohohoh!” Snotlout chortled, grinning in triumph. “Not this time.”

“Are you okay, Mr Clopper?” Tuffnut asked his horse in concern, pressing his face against Clopper’s and petting his nose. “Did the other man hurt you? Did he hit you? Did he say nasty things?”

“Tuffnut!” Snotlout snapped. “Focus!”

“Huh? Oh … right, right.”

Tuffnut climbed back up onto Clopper’s back, clearing his throat while giving Hiccup a sly, accusing look.

“Now, citizen of Berk, us three lords standing-”

“Sitting,” Ruffnut pointed out, raising her hand up.

“Good point, good point. Us three lords _sitting_ in front of you would like to you some questions pertaining to the location of a particular wanted person. Do you understand?”

“Uh … I guess,” Hiccup answered, making sure that his voice was somewhat deeper than normal.

“Good. That’s good. And don’t try to play any of those tricky tricks on us. You don’t want to make us get ugly, do you? Do you?!”

“That ship sailed a long time ago,” Snotlout teased, crossing his arms across his chest. Ruffnut punched the back of her brother’s shoulder.

“Ugly!” she said coolly, flicking her fingers at him. Tuffnut looked unamused at her before continuing his line of questioning.

“Okay, so have you seen, or have any knowledge whatsoever, the formerly appointed, and recently banished, prince, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock?”

“The Third,” Ruffnut added as a sidenote, looking pleased with herself as she flashed him a thumbs-up.

“Uh … no, I … uh … I can’t say that I have,” Hiccup answered, stumbling a little on his words as the anxiety started getting to him.

“You seem nervous, citizen,” Snotlout observed, guiding his horse forwards a few steps.

“Uh … n-no way! I-I mean ... w-why would I be nervous?”

“I dunno … maybe you’re hiding something!” Snotlout deduced, staring intensely at the hooded man.

“M-Me? Hi-Hiding something? Nah … th-that’s ridiculous …”

“Yeah, come on, ‘Lout,” Ruffnut chastised. “Go easy on the guy.”

“Yeah,” Tuffnut concurred, nodding. “We still need information from Mr … uh … what was your name again?”

“M-My name?” Hiccup stammered, drawing a blank on creating a name that was likely not the same as a name they’d heard before.

“Yeah, your name,” Tuffnut repeated, starting to grow suspicious.

“I-I don’t believe I gave you … m-my name …”

“Really?” Snotlout pressed. “Well, it shouldn’t be too hard to remember, should it?”

“Of course … M-my name … i-it’s … it’s …”

“Oi! Muttonheads!” an angry female voice called out from the top of the hill. All four looked to the hill top to see the woman atop a silvery white mare galloping towards them.

“Oh great …” Tuffnut pouted, crossing his arms over one another. “We’ll have to split the reward four ways now.”

“No, you idiot,” Snotlout spoke angrily, “We’re not even going to get to search. You both wasted too much time.”

“We wasted time?!” Ruffnut shouted. “How did we waste time?!”

“Do I really need to answer that?”

“What are you three doing here?” Astrid questioned as she arrived at the group. She wore the same armour that Snotlout and the twins wore, save for having a white spiked armoured skirt along with the leg protections, having sky blue coloured outlines and plates instead of the red of Snotlout and the gold of the twins and her gemstone being a sapphire. Her long blonde hair was done up in a large braid, with a few bangs of her hair falling over her brass circlet and her favourite double-edged axe was left hanging from a loop in her saddle.

“Interrogating this civilian,” Ruffnut answered nonchalantly with a bored expression on her face.

“You muttonhead!” Snotlout snapped, balling his hands up into fists. “You’re not supposed to tell her that.”

“Stoick ordered us to go to Thornscar to look out for Johan’s arrival and help protect him on his trip to Whiteport. Why are you messing around with this person?”

“We thought he had information on Hiccup,” Tuffnut answered, again giving away information without care, like his sister.

“Oh, for the love of Thor …”

“Oh, come on!” Snotlout shouted. “Do you both know nothing of secrecy?!”

“Wait … that was a secret?” Ruffnut asked, looking at her brother in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” Tuffnut inquired to Snotlout.

“Ugh … idiots!” Snotlout griped, face palming in annoyance.

“Ugh ... muttonheads ,” Astrid groaned, rolling her eyes. “So what about you, Snotlout? What’s your excuse for goofing off?”

“Goofing off?!” Snotlout exclaimed. “Goofing off?! You’re calling the largest bounty reward ever announced since Alvin first went on the market ‘ _goofing off’_?!”

“Considering you still weren’t doing what you were meant to, yes.”

“W-well … h-he was being suspicious!” Snotlout declared, pointing at the hooded Hiccup. The disguised teen looked at Astrid nervously, who was eyeing him up and down.

“What’s so suspicious about him?” Astrid asked after a moment. “It’s always a little chilly, which explains the cloak, and everyone gets into a scuffle with a dragon, which explains the limp.”

“Limp? What limp?” the twins ask, looking at one another before looking at Hiccup.

“He’s putting less pressure on his right leg, hence why he is slanted to his left,” Astrid pointed out.

“Oh … I see,” Tuffnut said before giving his sister a confused shrug, getting one in return.

‘Damn, I forgot about the leg imbalance,’ Hiccup cursed silently. ‘Just so long as that doesn’t slip me up …’

“He couldn’t even remember his own name!” Snotlout shouted, gaining a nod from the twins.

“Enough, I don’t want to hear it,” Astrid sighed exasperatedly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Just … hurry up and get to Ravenwell. And don’t leave there without me. If you do, I will make sure Gobber gets you cleaning out those dragon cages for the next month.”

Astrid cracked her neck and shoulders at the last bit, showing her willingness to carry out her threat. Both twins look aghast at each other before quickly back to Astrid.

“Yes sir, sir ma’am sir,” Tuffnut proclaimed as he and Ruffnut salute her before turning around and galloping off on their steeds. Snotlout growled in frustration before turning and following, shooting Hiccup a fierce glare before taking off.

“Look … I’m sorry about those muttonheads,” Astrid sighed, looking down at Hiccup from atop her mare. “They rarely do what they are told to do and would rather harass other people than do some hard, honest work.”

“O-Oh, I … uh … I … it-it’s fine … The-They can’t be that bad …” Hiccup stammered, getting more embarrassed by the second. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks as his attraction for Astrid started to get the better of him.

‘N-Now, Hiccup … you … you c-can control yourself. Y-you do not have to fall f-for the Valkyri- I m-mean A-Astrid … What? Wait, I … what? Oh, Thor in the heavens above! I’m dead …’

“Eh … I guess they have their moments,” Astrid admitted, “though if they could be more mature …”

“Th-they’ll grow up eventually …” Hiccup stuttered, trying not to beat himself up inside.

“Hmm … maybe Snotlout was right for once,” Astrid murmured to herself. “He seems to get stranger by the- Whoa! Easy, girl!”

Astrid’s mare, with a snort, suddenly lurched forwards and walked up to Hiccup, sniffing at him.

“Whoa, Crystal! What’s wrong, girl?” Astrid asked as her mare, Crystal, as she rubs the side of the mare’s neck. Crystal, deciding Hiccup was safe, starts nuzzling against him as well like Clopper before. Hiccup tentatively reached out and started petting her.

“Huh … well, you must be different if Crystal likes you,” Astrid remarked, unable to hide her surprise. “Crystal never seems to like anyone.”

“I-I guess I just ha-have a way with animals …” Hiccup chuckled, a little surprised himself at the outcome. Crystal kept pushing herself into his chest, obviously happy with the treatment she was getting.

“Unfortunately for you, that just makes me suspicious of you,” Astrid declared, jumping off of Crystal’s saddle to the ground and walking up to Hiccup. “So what’s your name?”

“M-my n-name?” he gulped.

‘Oh no … I still haven’t thought of a name …’

“Yes, your name,” Astrid pressured, putting her hands on her hips. “What? Did you forget it or something?”

“U-Uh … no, no, no, no. Not at all,” Hiccup stressed. “U-uh … my n-name … is …Th-Thor … Bonecrusher! That’s it. Thor Bonecrusher.”

“Thor Bonecrusher?” Astrid inquired, clearly not convinced as she took in his figure. Lanky, off-balanced, spindly; he certainly didn’t look like he lived up to either of those names.

“Yeah … my … uh … family … we don’t all take after our … uh … names,” Hiccup explained, laughing sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck.

“… I see,” she answered curtly, getting back up on Crystal who was finally content with the amount of grooming she received from Hiccup’s hand. “Well, can I see your face?”

“Uh … I-I’m a-afraid not …” Hiccup responded, looking down at the ground and causing Astrid to raise an eyebrow. “Y-you see … I was caught in … in an accident, recently. The bandages I have on … Gob- no, Gothi! That’s it. Gothi. She said … or, y-you know, scribbled, that I needed to … um … keep them covered until I returned home, so … y-yeah. That’s it.”

“Gothi told you to keep the bandages covered until you got home?” Astrid queried, her sceptism growing with every word and stutter that came forth from his mouth.

‘Oh gods, I’m in trouble … Please Odin, Thor, even Loki! Please get me out of this alive!’ Hiccup prayed, entering a state of panicking hysteria.

“Uh, y-you know … th-this feels more l-like an interrogation than what the o-others were trying,” Hiccup joked, the fear starting to creep into his voice. Astrid gave him a sidelong glance before undoing the loop on her saddle that held her axe in place.

“Well, that’s a good thing, because I don’t believe any of your stories,” Astrid stated, running a finger along one of the axe blades as she came back over to him. “So, if you want to end this quickly, you’ll tell me what you know.”

“I-If y-your doubt is due to my anxiety … I-I should tell you that I’m not a very … y-you know … social person,” Hiccup expressed, stepping backwards as Astrid pushed forwards.

‘Anti-social? Yeah, right,’ Astrid scoffed to herself. ‘You’re hiding something, ‘Thor Bonecrusher.’ And I intend to find out what it is.’

“What are you doing here?” Astrid questioned, ignoring his previous statement and labelling it as just plain rubbish. “Where are you planning on doing? Are you meeting up with someone? Are you smuggling something that you don’t want us to find out? What are you hiding?!”

“Um-Uh-Well … y-you see …” Hiccup stammered, drawing a blank on what and how he should answer.

“Yes?” Astrid pressed, jamming her axehead just short of his face. “What is it?”

“Um … uh … Sh-shouldn’t y-you be heading off to Ravenwell?” Hiccup asked, latching on to the only thing he could think of. “I-I mean, the other three could get up to anything while you’re not there …”

Astrid was about to yell at him, giving him a death glare and possibly wallop him for his troubles. Instead, she hesitated as the hooded man’s words got through to her, mulling over the truth that was in the statement.

“Argh! Damn it, Loki!” she cursed, swinging her axe through air behind her before jabbing it back in Hiccup’s face. “You’re damn lucky those muttonheads need me, and that the king is counting on me.”

“I … I believe you,” Hiccup panted, unable to believe his luck. ‘How in the name of Odin did that work?’

Astrid turned back and walked over to Crystal who was head down eating the grass at the side of the road. She reattached her axe to the saddle and climbed back up, bringing the white mare over to a still shocked Hiccup.

“Do you need a lift to Ravenwell?” Astrid asked, her blue eyes still showing her frustration and suspicion.

“Uh … no thanks,” Hiccup answered. “I think the walk w-will do me good, y-you know? Let these bandages do their job.”

Hiccup gestures to his head, which only garners a scoff and a shake of her head. She makes to ride off, but stops herself for one last question.

“Answer me honestly,” she sighed “Do you know anything about the banished prince, Hiccup, and his whereabouts?”

“Uh … n-no, I don’t,” the disguised prince answered. “I only found out about the banishment today. Sorry.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Astrid replied, shaking her head. “So long as you are telling the truth, that is.”

“I-If you don’t mind me asking, are you going after the bounty as well?” Hiccup inquired, concerned about which answer she would give.

“I couldn’t give two yak steaks about the bounty,” Astrid stated, her pride making her offended by the question. “I just want to find out the truth and bring him to justice, if necessary. I will prove myself by bringing him in.”

“… What if he’s innocent?”

“What?!” Astrid spun around, looking at Hiccup in an almost preposterous manner.

“W-What if, h-hypothetically speaking, it turns out that h-he is innocent from … w-whatever it was he was accused of?” Hiccup asks, frightened by the ludicrous reaction from Astrid. “W-What would you do then?”

There was a moment of silence between the two as Astrid sat pondering the question asked of her, staring nearly absentmindedly towards the horizon. After contemplating for a minute, she turned back and gave him her answer.

“That would depend on what he’s done since his banishment, what course of action he will take afterwards, and if I can get to him before anyone else.”

“Okay then,” Hiccup nodded, satisfied and relieved inside with her answer.

‘At least she won’t kill me the moment she sees me. If only she knew …’

“Now, if you don’t mind me asking you something,” Astrid continued, snapping Hiccup out of his thoughts.

“Wha- I-I mean … sure. What is it?”

“If you hear anything, even a rumour, can you bring it to me? Or at least follow a message on to the Hoffersons? That way I can get the news quickly.”

“Uh … I’m not sure how much help I’ll be … but if I can, I’ll do as you wish,” Hiccup responded with a bow.

“Thank you. If that’s the case, then I hope that I see you again,” Astrid said, rubbing Crystal’s neck. “Now, let’s get going, girl. We’ll have to be fast to catch up to the others.”

With a loud neigh, Crystal sped off immediately, galloping off along the path. Hiccup stood rooted to the spot, watching Astrid and her mare ride off into the distance.

“Goodbye, milady,” Hiccup said aloud to himself. “You are going to hate me when you learn what happened, if you ever do. That went a lot better than I feared it would.”

“Don’t forget!” Astrid shouted before she disappeared from sight. “I’m still very suspicious of you! This doesn’t end here!”

“And just like that, she brings me crashing back down to the earth,” Hiccup moaned as he watched her disappear from sight before continuing on his journey. “At least this confirms my original plan. Avoid Ravenwell.”

* * *

The sky blazed above with a rich orange hue as the sun slowly descended behind the Berkian mountain range, casting elongated shadows across the land. Rays of sunlight radiated through the valleys cutting between the rising peaks, letting the land cling desperately to the last fleeting natural warmth of the day. Hiccup gazed upon this sight once more, taking in the marvelling beauty that nature had to offer. A land at peace, undaunted by the common issues of man and beast and the raging war taking place between Berkians and dragons. Hiccup regarded the serene sight before him as a sign of safety tonight, that nature would not allow him to be captured in the shadows of the night. With the show of peace that he believed true in his heart and certain that no one has seen him, Hiccup turned around and vanished into the forest that stood behind him, forsaking the path as the town of Ravenwell came into view.

Minutes tick by as the prince passes through the woods, silence greeting him at every second. Everything from the boulders and branches down to the lightest leaf make no movement, surrounding him like a group of animals, watching his every move. Silence greets him in an eerie fashion, marking him as a stranger to this section of the forest. Branding him suspicious … dubious … unwanted … unwelcome.

Deep into the forest, Hiccup stops walking and looks around him. He has travelled well past the point that he cannot see both the road and Ravenwell. No creatures of any size can be seen, only trees and mossy boulders embedded into the dry mulch of fallen leaves, twigs, bark, dirt and dust. The shadowy atmosphere smothered by the thick foliage sends chills down his spine that the frosty temperature hadn’t already.

“Seems as good a place as any to set up camp,” Hiccup mumbled, the murky woodland putting him on edge.

Hiccup marked the ground for his camp by drawing a large circle in the ground with the tip of the scabbard containing his mother’s sword and set both his sack and his mother’s sword down in a nook at the base of a large trunked oak tree before taking off, circling around his self-appointed campsite and picking up any seemingly suitable sticks and branches that had previously fallen or been snapped off by critters passing overhead. Walking around in the forest, he could hear small twigs snap and fallen leaves rustling under his feet, the soft breeze gently stirring the treetops high above him and the faint flowing of water somewhere nearby. Once he felt like he had a large enough bundle he trekked back to his camp, lugging the manageable bunch of wooden limbs in his arms. Setting them down against the trunk of another oak tree, he proceeded to sorting out his equipment. He took out his prototype flame sword, _Inferno,_ along with a notebook, a charcoal pencil and his leather waterskin. He also removed his torso armour, sitting it in the nook with the sack instead of inside the sack.

Grabbing some small stones scattered around in the near vicinity, he set up his fire pit and stacked some of the dryer sticks in a cone shape, with small twigs scattered inside. With _Inferno_ in his hand, Hiccup crouched over the fire pit and triggered the blade. It sprung out with sparks flying out from the thin slot in one end of the handle. The blade itself did not ignite, but the sparks that did shoot out landed down on the small twigs in the fire pit. The multitude of embers set the kindling alight, the tiny fire slowly beginning to spread.

Sitting back Hiccup looked at the prototype blade, turning the handle round in his hand. At the stage of creation before he was banished, the handle was cylindrical in shape with some metal strips curving with the handle jutting out further, the midsection covered in a light leather grip. The blade was designed with two strips of steel going straight, before angling in and meeting at a point. In the middle of the blade steel strips came down making ‘X’ shapes as they intersected, while the rest was all empty. The blade sprung from a thin slit at the top of the handle capsule, where within the spring-load and lighting sequence took place triggered by a small red switch built into a jutting ring of metal just above the leather grip. No distinguishing marks, engravings or designs lay on the sword part from the design of the blade, the prince choosing to focus on functionality before design.

“Still not working, huh?” Hiccup muttered, shaking the handle and flipping the switch, retracting the blade into the hilt, as he set the sword down on the ground. “What is it that’s wrong? Is it the lighting system? The coating on the blade? Blade design? Or is it to do with how quickly it springs out?”

He picked up and wrote down these factors into his notebook, mulling over the effect that each could be having on hindering the ignition of _Inferno’s_ steel blade. He sat there staring at his notes and designs as if an answer would jump out at him, to no avail.

“There’s not much point in worrying about it right now, Hiccup,” he sighed to himself, leaning back against the thick trunk of a tall weeping willow tree. “You can’t do anything right now about it, or soon, for that matter. It’ll have to be dealt with when the opportunity arises. Besides, it still works well enough as a normal sword.”

Looking into the nook of the oak next to him with his supplies situated within, he reached in and unhooked the sword his mother left for him from the sack and pulled it out. In his hand, the scabbard was long and slim with a slight curve to it, made with a scarlet red leather cover over the light metal encasing. The locket and chape was made of gold, with runes of ancient Berkian inscribed along the locket, revealing the name of the weapon to be _Nightingale_ , and attached to rings at the bottom of the locket and the top of the chape was a long black strap. The grip was strapped with royal red tanned leather, while the pommel took the form of a lion’s head about to roar forged in gold. The golden guard was curved towards the tip, while the river-guard was intricately plated with pieces of steel, iron and silver.

Taking the handle in his hand, Hiccup drew forth the sword from the scabbard, the blade making a slight ringing of metal as it slides along the locket. The edges shone faintly, taking a silvery-white glimmer, a mystical serenity shared by a curved four pointed star located just below the river-guard. Black steel enveloped the mid-section of the blade, contrasting with the edges to look like stars in the night sky. With the wood burning with a rich orange hue, the sword shimmered with warmth, the glow of a blaze waiting to erupt forth.

To the prince, it showed eerie warmth, not to strengthen his heart and renew his resolve. Though he was only a babe, he can still vividly remember the night his mother, Queen Valka the Fair, was snatched away from he, his father and the world during a viscous raid by dragons. He could still hear the roars and growls of the reptiles as they tore Berk apart, the shrieks and cries of Berkians as they defended their home and fought back against the dragons and the fierce crackling of the inferno raining down from the darkness of the heavens above. From inside his cot, he could see a section of the roof collapse as a purple Gronckle was struck out of the sky and fell through the ceiling, bringing fire, smoke and rubble crashing down. Ignoring the baby prince’s cries, the Gronckle flew back out of the hole it had created. Moments later, the door to his room, out the back of the castle, opened with Valka calling out for her son, hair pinned back in a braid and wearing brown leather armour and skirt. Shortly after she spotted him in the cot a section of the wall exploded in, the dust and debris causing her to shield her eyes. From the opening in the wall a large dragon crawled in, spying the cot. When turning back, Valka saw the dust red scales of the four winged beast crawl over to her baby.

In his innocence, Hiccup could remember being fascinated by the owl-like face staring with wide eyed curiosity down at him. He could remember reaching up taking a claw in his hand giggling as his mother watched on breathlessly. He winced as the memory of the claw scratched across his chin as the room shook from a fierce impact on the castle, making his baby figure wail. He saw the dragon turn to his mother who, in fear for the safety of her baby, reached over and unsheathed the very sword that he was holding now. The only sounds in the room for the next few moments was burning wood and Valka’s terrified breathing as she and the dragon stared at each other. As she slowly began lowering her sword an axe flew through the air in between them and lodged itself into a nearby wooden column. The dragon changed immediately upon seeing the axe just miss its head and crack into the wood, hissing at the attacker. From the door, King Stoick lunged forwards bellowing at his wife. He dove over the burning debris, plucked Hiccup from his cot and dislodged his axe only to turn and see the dragon flying away with its four wings at full stretch, the queen being clutched in its claws. Hiccup could remember seeing his parents shouting out for one another as his mother was being taken away and his father rushing him into the castle. The last moment of that night he could remember was Stoick handing him to another mother within the castle before he ran back out to the fight full of fury, while baby Hiccup cried and cried.

Coming back from the realms of his memories, the teenage outcast unplugged the leather skin and took a drink, taking a mouthful of water. Feeling the carrier, he could sense that it would soon be dry.

‘I know I heard running water before,’ Hiccup mused, thinking back to his search for firewood. Standing up, he took some strips of meat and, skewering them on sturdy sticks, set them up to cook on the fire, before picking up his waterskin, _Nightingale_ and _Inferno_ and heading off from the fire-pit, _Nightingale_ hanging in its scabbard from his hip and _Inferno_ clipped to his lower back.

Walking east for a few minutes from his temporary camp, the teenage outcast came across the thin running stream that he heard on his scavenging for firewood. The brook babbled over boulders and stones sunk at the stream bed, flowing gently as it curves from the direction of Ravenwell around the edge of the isle towards the mountain range south of Berk. The depth is quite shallow, reaching only waist height on Hiccup at the deepest portion of this particular section of the river. The water was extremely clear, showing the lack of contamination ranging from the river’s source and along the stream’s flow up to this point. Quietly, as if the trees would creak to life, uproot themselves and crush him if he dared disturb their peaceful slumber, Hiccup crouched down on the riverside and held his waterskin under the surface of the brook, letting it fill up with clear, uncontaminated water. When it had completely filled up, Hiccup pulled it out and corked it up, slinging the strap around his shoulder, before walking back to his camp with the faint glow of the fire lighting his path back.

‘Need to remember to fill up again before I leave,’ Hiccup noted, meandering back to his camp. ‘No telling when I’ll get another safe opportunity to collect water.’

Hiccup was so lost in his thoughts that he barely registered arriving back at his campsite. The sharp sound of steel grinding against rock snapped the prince back to the present, his eyes darting over to the figure sitting on a tree root.

“It’s dangerous leaving your items alone in the woods,” the man on the tree root spoke softly, sitting close to Hiccup’s fire and looking down at the sword held lightly in his left hand. The whetstone in his right hand came down along the blade angled towards the ground, making the same sound that caught the prince by surprise. “You never know who might come along.”

From the warm light the fire provided, Hiccup could make out a light brown skin tone, with messy, tangled, dark brown curly hair. Thick studded leather armour covered his torso, legs and feet, while his arms were bare save for a golden band around his upper right arm and two straps of light tanned leather criss-crossing up his left arm from the wrist to just below the shoulder. A quiver of arrows was attached to his back, with a willow bow slung over in the opposite direction. A blood red scar covered his left eye, angled from right to left, matched by the other smaller scars and nooks along his arms. A simple silver ring adorned his right hand, skin rough and grimy from dirt.

“W-Who are you?” Hiccup stammered, griping the handle of _Nightingale_ tightly in its scabbard. He slowly took steps forward, trying to analyse this new person who seemed barely interested in him.

“These are some nice drawings,” a young feminine voice spoke from above, causing Hiccup to look up into the trees.

Perched on a tree branch fairly high up from the ground was a small slender woman, her back to the trunk of the oak tree she was sitting in and a leg dangling down, the other balanced on the branch. She had Hiccup’s notebook in her hands and was flipping through the pages. Her boots black and scaled, by the looks of the slight rosy shimmering of flames highlighting the seams of fused jagged dragon scales. Her form hugging clothes seemed to offer her protection from the elements, despite the sleeveless nature of her torso armour. Below her right shoulder, a thorny tattoo encircled her arm and two rings ensnared her fingers, one golden and the other sparkling silver. Her face was youthful in feature with her long mahogany hair tied up in a bun, pinned in place by what looked like many small daggers.

“H-Hey! That’s mine!” Hiccup shouted, taking a couple of steps forward.

“Now, now, hold your horses,” the woman replied as she turned a page, simply dismissing his comment with a wave of her hand. “What’s yours is ours and all that.”

“What claim do you have to these items?” the man spoke abruptly in a low tone, casting the stone upon the blade once again.

“Wha- Those are my items! This is my camp!” Hiccup proclaimed matter-of-factly. “Why else would I be here?”

“You saw the light of the fire, you smelled cooking meat, you’re a bandit,” the stranger listed off, “Any number of reasons.”

“Ooh, who’s this?” the woman fruitfully squealed, rolling off the branch she was lain upon and acrobatically landing on much lower and thicker branch, swinging her dangling legs from left to right. “She looks very pretty.”

‘She must mean Astrid!’

“Give that back!” the outcast prince demanded.

He ran over to the tree the girl was hanging off, swiping at the notebook in her hands which she deliberately lowered for him. However, whenever he came close to grabbing the documents, with a cheeky grin she would raise it just out of reach before lowering it again and repeating the process, much to her amusement and the chagrin of Hiccup.

“Hahaha, oh, boys are too easy,” she giggled, spinning around and hanging upside down, placing the notebook on the branch.

Hiccup growled irritably and turned around, taking a step only to bump into a third stranger. This one, male again, towered over Hiccup. His build was hulking and solid, with arms and legs like thick branches of a fully grown oak tree. Covering his body was battle-worn and scarred armour, plates slanted like the husk off a tree and slightly rusted around the joints. Holstered on his back was a large bidenhänder, the twin curved guards looking like the large fangs of a sabre beast. His face was rough, a few nicks and blemishes on his skin, harsh dark brown eyes that looked like they could cut your spirit more than his sword could slice a body, and a darkened, grizzled complexion. Hiccup shrank at the sight of the daunting man.

“We don’t care if these items are yours or not,” a raucous voice sounded as it came forth from the giant in front of Hiccup. “We’re bandits, and we’re quite happy to take them off your hands.”

The stranger took an intimidating step towards the boy, to which Hiccup responded by unhinging _Inferno_. He pushed the button and the blade sprung out, this time wrapped in flames as the sparks set it alight.

‘Yes! Finally! Of all the times for it to work! _’_ Hiccup gratefully thought, pointing the burning sword towards the giant of a man. Caught off guard by the surprising springing forth and combustion of the sword blade, the man put his hands up slowly and took a couple of steps back.

“Whoa … what in the world is that?” the girl questioned, having to grip tightly onto the branch to not fall off in shock.

“Well this is an interesting development,” the larger man bluntly put, eyeing the sword.

“Now, now, let’s all calm down,” the sitting man said, finally standing up and walking tentatively towards his companion and the prince. “No need to do something you’ll regret later.”

Seeing his advancement, Hiccup turned the blade to the other man, switching it between the two, the flames rippling as it moved. Neither one of them wanted to move less the individual wielding the flame sword knew exactly how to use it, or if he had any more surprises left hidden from sight.

“You make that yourself?” the larger of the bandits questioned, his gravely voice softening slightly.

“Yes,” Hiccup put bluntly, trying to keep his wrist from shaking around from his fear.

“He’s got a whole book of things like that,” the woman pointed out, holding up the notebook having already pulled herself upright.

“Oh? Even more interesting …”

“Allundra, enough,” the swordsman uttered.

“What? He does. It’s all here.”

“You an outcast?” the big man questioned, putting his hands down.

“So what if I am? What difference does it make?” Hiccup retorted, curious as to where this is going.

“You got anywhere to go?”

“… I was going to leave the isle.”

“No one else with you?”

“No …”

The man turned around and paced for a bit, clearly considering what he could be doing. The girl, Allundra, jumped down from the tree and sauntered over to the swordsman, both watching their companion and wondering what he was pondering. She then moved over to Hiccup and put his notebook in his empty hand, shuffling back before Hiccup could be given a chance to do anything.

“Here’s what I can offer you,” the giant said after a few moments of thoughtful silence. “We could do with a man of your … intellectual ability. You seem like a smart kid. Why not join our group?”

“Your group?” Hiccup questioned, “There’s more than you three, isn’t there?”

“Yes, and they could be anywhere in this forest,” the man said in a threatening manner. “I could call them all right now and they could tear this place apart.”

The giant took a large step forwards, with Hiccup stumbling back a little while pointing _Inferno_ back to his chest. The man stopped again, still wary of the sword.

“Ragnar, why don’t you go check up on the others?” the swordsman said, standing up and walking over to the giant.

“What makes you think you can order me around?” Ragnar growled, looking down at his fellow bandit.

“Nothing. You’re the leader and I’m not. I’m just suggesting that it could be a good idea,” the swordsman reasoned softly. “You know as well as I do the others are restless. We don’t need anything unfavourable happening to the camp so close to a village.”

“I guess you have a point,” Ragnar huffed, rolling over his right shoulder.

“Let me try to talk to him,” the swordsman proposed, pulling him away and softly speaking so that the young outcast couldn’t hear them. “You get the others grouped up. Scout out Ravenwell. See if it’s worth attacking.”

“Hmph … whatever,” the giant growled, raising a finger up to the swordsman. “If you’re unable to convince him, then make sure you get some useful information out of him. The boy feels like he’d be a valuable addition, one way or another.”

“Yes, Ragnar,” the swordsman said, the giant turning around with his bidenhänder in its sheath clattering lightly against his back. “Allundra, you should go with Ragnar.”

“But Blaze, I want to stay,” Allundra complained, flipping, swinging and climbing her way up onto a low branch of the willow tree. “Ragnar, can’t I stay?”

“Do whatever you wish,” Ragnar growled before walking off into the trees, vanishing into the darkness.

Hiccup just stood still, watching their conversation and the giant walking away into the forest, shadowed by the canopy blocking out the light gleaming down from the moon and the stars high above the land. The swordsman appeared to sigh before turning around to face Hiccup, seeing the flaming sword now pointed towards him.

“There’s no need for that,” the man responded, sitting back down onto the tree root that he was on when Hiccup returned to his camp. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Glancing between both the swordsman and the girl up in the tree, her legs swaying from side to side as she hummed peacefully to herself while watching the young boy, Hiccup tentatively sheathed _Inferno_. The blade of the flame sword clicked as it retracted back into the hilt, the flames that had been enveloping the blade extinguishing through both the rush of air and the lack of constant oxygen to fuel the fire.

“That most certainly is an interesting weapon,” the swordsman observed, his eyes staring at the unique weapon. “How did you make it?”

“Why should I tell you that?” Hiccup retorted warily, not willing to trust the two bandits.

“Fair enough. Perhaps some introductions are in order. I am called Blaze. This is Allundra up in the tree.”

Allundra gave a little wave to Hiccup, continuing on with her leg swinging and humming from her branch.

“And the other man that was here is called Ragnar,” Blaze explained. “He leads our small group of criminals.”

“Well, he certainly seems like a bundle of joy,” Hiccup responded sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Allundra starts giggling a lot, covering her mouth with one of her hands whilst using the other to hang onto the branch she was on.

“Finally, someone with a sense of humour,” Allundra giggles, falling backwards and swinging upside down in a giggling fit, a few locks of hair dangling down before she arcs her head back to look at Hiccup again. “You just have to join us!”

“I don’t think that will work,” Hiccup responded tentatively, tightening his grip on the handle of his extinguished blade.

“Aww … why not?” she asks disappointedly, swinging herself around and back up on top of her branch.

“It’s not my type of thing, robbing and stealing,” Hiccup explained, slowly sitting down on a fallen tree trunk.

“Shame,” Allundra pouts, pulling her legs up towards her chest. “You seem like you’d be a nice inclusion.”

“You know, thievery is not all that we do,” Blaze points out, crossing his arms across his chest.

“But could you survive without it?” Hiccup questions, leaning forwards and taking one of his meat skewers off his campfire, the red meat well cooked and smelling smoky and lovely. Glancing to his side at the bandit swordsman, he takes off another skewer and silently offers it to the stranger, who shakes his head. Hiccup then offered the skewer to Allundra, the young girl swinging down out of the tree and gently taking the skewer.

“I guess not,” Blaze answered, watching the burning campfire crackle over the wooden fuel. “Not right away, anyway, with the amount of companions with us.”

“Mmm! This is good!” Allundra comments as she bites and chews away at the strips of meat on her stick.

“So, I really don’t think I can,” Hiccup continued, biting into his chewy meat. “It’s not the type of thing I want a part in.”

“I can respect that,” Blaze replied. “So what _is_ your plan?”

“… I need to get out of Berk. Whether by sea or by land, but by land is probably the easier of the two.”

“So that means you need to cross over the Sea Serpent’s Fjord don’t you?” Blaze noted, his eyes shifting from the fire to the banished prince.

“Inevitably,” he acknowledged grimly.

As he had heard from the many merchants and travellers that came through to the great fortress he once called home, the Sea Serpent’s Fjord was an extremely dangerous passage to cross by sea. Tales would flood in of vicious currents and waves pounding against the many brave vessels sailing through the pass, the forces of which were strong enough to damage even the sturdiest of hulls. Larger, thicker ships would be riddled with holes and start to fill with sea water or be cast aside on the shores on either side of the fjord, while smaller ships could be completely torn to splinters by the stormy waters. Such was the mysterious infamy of the passage that even on a clear day the vessels would have to be careful to safely reach the ports of Thornscar, located under the vast bridge town, in relatively one piece, the only place within the channel where ships were able to gain some sort of safety in the water. But even then, the ports could not guarantee the safety of the vessels and the cargo they carried, as ships could be found to be thrown against the solid ports and break apart. As such, only the bravest and most desperate of sailors would dare to brave the treacherous path.

And that was just the natural causes that were known to claim the sea vessels. Out of the tales of sailors lucky to survive their ship being destroyed, whispers and rumours came forth of creatures lurking in the depths of the ocean rising up to strike against ships straying into their territory. Surviving travellers deemed to be in deep shock and taking by the craziness of the ocean spoke of underwater beasts surfacing from the darkness to feast upon man, wood and treasure, determined to drag all who dared wake them down to their watery graves. From schools of small, destructive fish able to tear their way into the transports to flood them from the inside, to gargantuan serpents and dragons able to coil round and physically squeeze and smash firm broad ships to pieces, all accounts seemed hazy and unclear, while others who had ventured out to try and find these destructive creatures would come back empty handed. Thusly, even though the truth behind these curious tales remained unfounded, the painful and horrifying ferocity of the waters alongside the mystical accounts led to the passage being known as the Sea Serpent’s Fjord.

“Well, as fellow outcasts, I’ll give you this little bit of useful information,” Blaze offered. “Normally the safest way across would be by crossing over and passing through Thornscar but, as it turns out, you’re in luck.”

“What are you talking about?” Hiccup inquired, his curiosity getting to him in his desperation to escape the isle.

“Once every six months or so, the waters in the fjord suddenly become calm and quiet, a complete turnabout of their usual maelstrom,” the swordsman explained seriously. “For a week, the sea is gentle, letting anyone who would be able to cross it travel safely away.”

“People can safely travel along the channel?”

“Exactly.”

“But why wouldn’t more people take the pass if they know about this detail?”

“Because it is just about impossible to predict when the next calm will occur,” Blaze clarified, “and many people who have tried have come to a very unfortunate fate. It’s just as if one day it suddenly comes to a standstill, then seven days later it kicks back up into a raging torrent once more. Only the locals can really tell when it starts, so few dare try to account for it if they are taking a long journey. And those that know still rarely travel across in case they get caught in a sudden onslaught from the ocean.”

“So … that must mean that it’s the calm now, if you’re mentioning it,” Hiccup guessed.

“That’s right,” Blaze nodded. “We overheard that it had started four days ago. It should be safe to cross the fjord in a boat.”

“Wouldn’t I need to enter Thornscar to get a boat, though?”

“Not exactly,” Allundra jumped in, wiping her mouth and tossing her skewer, now clean of food, into the flames. “Sometimes small escape boats will manage to float away from the wrecked ships and safely make it to shore. Many of them will be brittle and punctured with holes, but there are some that are intact.”

“You could row one of those boats across the channel,” Blaze continued, “which should easily get you past the guards and soldiers at Thornscar.”

“And then all that would be left between me and the border would be trees and farmlands,” Hiccup concluded, mulling their information all over in his head. “Sounds like a plan. I take it I should still try to cross at night?”

“If you want to try and avoid attracting a lot of attention, that would probably be best,” Blaze agreed.

“You’d just have to make sure you don’t fall out of your boat,” Allundra said optimistically. “Or that a ship isn’t leaving the ports at the same time.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Hiccup joked with a small smile, causing another playful giggle to come from the young girl.

“I try,” she replies with a cheerful grin.

“Thank you,” Hiccup said to Blaze after a silent pause between them all. “Is there anything you want in return for the information?”

Blaze shakes his head in response to the banished prince’s question, pushing himself up to his feet.

“Just think about our offer some more, in case we come across each other again,” Blaze stated. “No telling what could change in the future.”

“Very well, then. I’ll give it some thought,” Hiccup declared.

“And you might want to loosen up a bit. You’re not going to get much out of anyone if you’re that formal and stiff around people.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“So long, outcast,” Blaze said in farewell as he turned to walk back into the trees, walking along the same path as Ragnar took when he vanished.

“And make sure you have a new name thought out!” he called back as the trees and darkness began to envelop him. “No point using your real name!”

“See ya!” Allundra said as she dashed off after Blaze, waving behind her with a beaming smile on her face before she too vanished into the darkness of the forest outside his camp.

The banished prince rose up to his feet and walked over to his campfire, tossing in his empty stick and picking up the last of his cooking meat skewers, the strips of meat on this one blackening into patches of a solid crispy layer as it slowly began to become charcoaled over the fire. His head turned to look across in the direction that the bandits walked away in, his thoughts lingering on their encounter and the information they shared with him.

‘Can I really trust what they say?’ Hiccup asked himself as he began biting into the meat on his skewer. ‘They’re bandits and outcasts. They are known for being deceitful and working to get things in their favour.’

The gaze of the banished prince of Berk shifts from the dusky forest back to his fire as he backs up to the large, thick oak tree he had hidden most of his items inside. Reaching inside the nook of the oak tree, he pulled out a spare cloak and wrapped it around himself, settling back down at the base of the grand tree. Eating the last remnants of his dinner, the teenager stared at the campfire as it flickered and crackled, the warm fiery glow flashing images of his the last day he saw Queen Valka, his loving mother. Small red sparks floated gently upwards, moving this way and that as it was caught in the rising hot air, only to be snuffed out by the thick foliage stretched out above him.

‘Still, it sounds like a better plan than trying to sneak through Thornscar,’ Hiccup reasoned as he continued to mull over Blaze and Allundra’s advice. ‘And the only way I’ll know if they are telling the truth is to get a look of the fjord ahead of the town. If they’re lying, I’ll just have to try and improvise.’

Hiccup slides the last of his meat off the wooden stick before tossing it towards the fire, the impact scattering some of the burnt, blackened firewood that he had built up into a pyramid as he lit the fire. As the charcoal pyramid broke and crumbled, many more sparks were thrown out of the rough fire pit, caught in a swirling soft night time breeze. Soon all were extinguished, the tiny glowing particles either falling back down to the ground and dying out, being snuffed out by the tree leaves and branches like those before them, or simply burning out in the night-time breeze. The outcast swallowed his meal and shuffled into the base of the trunk, his body curling up against it with little discomfort.

'Either way, I need to find some way across,’ the prince concluded as he brought himself into a ball. ‘I need to if I want to make sure I have a chance of clearing my name.’

Hiccup drew the hood of his cloak over his head, adding a small soft layer between his messy mop of brown hair and the hard wooden headrest; his breathes growing longer and deeper as he began listening into the sounds of the forest. The small chirps of a group of crickets beats out of the silent night, accompanied by the faint rustling of leaves blown in the gentle night breeze and the creaking of tree branches up above his head. Faintly, Hiccup believed he could hear the sound of laughter further into the black, dingy forest, but put it all behind him as he slowly relaxed enough to fall asleep, the heat from his camp fire washing over his tranquil slumber as it burned on through the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rough translations:  
> [1] Højestenbjerg - highest mountain  
> [2] Frystål - frozen eel
> 
> It was so much fun writing as the twins for this. Also, if you need a hand thinking of what the Berkian armour looks like, it's a similar design to the Dragovian armour in Dragon Quest 8.
> 
> So, this is the last of the pre-written chapters. I do still have the very long plans for this running through my head, so really the next chapter will come when it does. Sorry, it's more of a motivation thing than anything else. On the other hand, there will be a new upload for a different HTTYD story in five days. It'll be the prologue for a story called Curse of the Dragonheart. By all means, keep an eye out for it. 
> 
> Please feel free to let me know your thoughts, suggestions, ideas, criticisms. You can also contact me on Tumblr @thorongil82 if that's easier. Blaze was actually a character creation from one of my readers on FFN, if that gives you an idea on what I'm happy working with. Until next time, adios!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there we go for now. Please feel free to let me know any thoughts, suggestions, ideas and criticisms you may have. I've also had people make OCs for this story before. You can also find me on Tumblr @thorongil82, if that's easier for you. The next chapter will be up in 5 days time. So, until then, adios!


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